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[Seductive God of Thunder]

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➨ It's Monday, September 2nd, 2014. It's currently nighttime and there's school tomorrow for the kids and teens. There is a massive block party in the neighborhood that goes on for several blocks. It's celebrating the end of summer.

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[Tryfon]

Logan....yup, I'm a vampire

So Logan “Eevee” Evangelista was lazy. That was why he had chosen to be, well, a rather lazy vampire. He didn’t have any real friends just a few contacts. And he seriously only hung out with the scoobies for maybe an hour a day. He just didn’t see the real point in doing much. Most vampires had all these ambitions and stuff, and he just didn’t feel the same way. He just had never wanted to do anything since his village had burnt down. Though truth be told before that he didn’t really do much. He just joined the war effort because the villagers said it was his duty to their country and all that crap. And his mother forced him to do it. So he had to or else it was nag nag nag at his place. So he went, go and fight in a stupid war, and what happens? ******** Swedes had vampires and then chomp and over. Seriously now he had to live for goddamn ever doing dull thing after dull thing.

But back to how amazing is bed was. And for no real plan, he could sleep for as long as he wanted. He had the best bed for it. Like really, out of all the beds possible he had gotten the best. He had spent most quite a penny on it, especially considering that most places didn’t really take pennies. Can’t get a dinner with a nickel anymore, which was a shame…where was he going? Yup bragging. He had gotten the egyptian cotton, the pillows that make your head sink. the duvet that makes you hidden. hell he had gotten the goose down stuff so you actually sink into the bed. He loved sleeping. Eevee soon heard a beep beep of his alarm. His hand slunk to the table and found the contraption and turned it off without ever opening his eyes.

He then fell back asleep. He found himself sleeping on his back, mumbling every now and then. He soon felt something crawl on him. Oh no, it had happened. Teddy bears from his past had come alive to eat him. Eevee chuckled in his dream as he thought about it. bears. haha. He kept on sleeping and sleeping. Soon he soon heard the phone ring and ring loudly. He pleaded"five more hours..."

He muttered as he just took the phone and turned off the alarm as he lazily rolled to his side and off the bed. He got up and in an almost zombie like fashion walked to the shower, washing his hair and body and all that stuff. He went to his closet grabbed a pair of jeans and put those on with just a black tank top and as he found whatever shoes were closest he went down stairs. As he opened the fridge grabbing his bloods and mixing them together as he warmed it up on the stove stirring it here and here. He put it in in coffee tumblr and walked to the garage making it to the car and driving to the high school. He had gotten a job as a library assistant as well as substitute history teacher. Mostly library assistant. All indoors, little to no sunlight, free coffee in the breakroom. Best job for someone like himself who didn’t like working but did need some money to just keep up appearances. Seriously you end up unemployed for a few decades and people get suspicious. So this was good.

He drove and found the shaded spot near the school, he walked to the library. And went to the counter and found his chair, he sat in it and put the foots onto the table as he sipped his blood looking around, and that was how his day went. And time moved on and on and on and then night time happened. He had been told about the party from girl students who he had bumped into that were all giggly. And he had taken the invitation. He walked to the house and when he made it, he found a seat on the stairs so he could survey most of the room.

Where: House Party!
With Who? Nobody

[Tryfon]

Drusilla, Oh Drusilla, where are you now?

Buzz Buzz, lick lick lick, punch punch, screaming. There was so much going on in Chicago. Drusilla could feel everything. She could feel the flames sweeping through taking the city down, she could feel the bullets flying as alcohol spilled mixing with the blood. It almost made her giddy. This whole city was engulfed in darkness, in danger and evil. She could feel it on the winds, as the sun sets this became very old. Very dark. Yes. It was all going to be so wonderful. Drusilla walked along her new hide out, she had gotten it because she loved how it sounded.

Drusilla when she had moved to Chicago just had wandered the streets till she found someone who the wind had told her knew this town. Someone who had been here for awhile…and well that person had not been very nice. Called her crazy. The vampire went about how it was his town, she was insane to think she could take it, who did she think she was, yada yada yada. Drusilla tilted her head as she asked “The wind says you know this town? And yet you aren’t being very nice….” She went closer to him and she sighed “naughty naughty, no presents” and she took her razor sharp nails and cut his throat, as he groaned and started saying mean things she sighed as she took his head and used her feet she ripped his head off and he became dust. She pouted “now your dust and not wind anymore…”

Which meant she had to figure things out by herself. So she walked around some more and she found a place to call home. She looked at it as her hands touched the cold stone. As she did it whispered in so many voices about itself. This was the Old Chicago Main Post Office which was a nine-story-tall building in Chicago designed by Graham, Anderson, Probst & White and built in 1921. This mail terminal enguls the Eisenhower Expressway as it turns into Congress parkway. Oh how beautiful. In the thirties it had grown up and up and up, and more and more and more. Yes. Though poor darling, abandoned in the sixties because the mail clogged and nobody got their letters. That was fine, it was hers now. She walked in as the dust sifted its way through a floor of broken glass as rocks laid waste inside. And the best part was that this would stay here forever, a place nobody was in with protection from a government wrapped in night. It was hers. She started to dance inside of it as she giggled.

As she did she wondered who the boy after the Slayer was. The old vampire who wished to break the fragile doll? Who was the new slayer? Perhaps tonight she could visit and see who it was? Yes, that would be lovely. They could have tea and cakes and lemons and well she would let her have the special tea if she was good but Slayers were awful mean so she doubted she’d be given the good tea. Or the cakes. As she looked around for the newest ampire she was playing with. She started to call out in a sing song voice "Donny! Where are yo donny for the stars are shrieking and its time to move with the sky as we dance to the beat of the new slayer?"

Drusilla, where has the wind taken you now? Old Post Office (her hide out)
Who is speaking, if not us? Nobody yet but hopefully Don resurfaces.
Aw what a lovely dress you have pretty dress

Whispered Disasters

[Shimmering_Apocalypse]

❝ Somebody shine a light,
I'm frozen by the fear in me. ❞

Claire Newell

Claire had spent the morning practicing some of her wika spells and of course trying to figure out what to wear for the evening because well it was the annual end of summer party for town, which meant of course Claire would be covering for her older sister yet again while her parents drill her with questions. She was quickly running out of excuses for where Aria would be, she obviously couldn't use the studying or homework excuse because school hadn't started yet and it was the block party tonight so it ruled out her going and hanging out at one of her friends' houses because her friends would be at the block party and their parents all talked to one another most of the time and with this being a social gathering it was a given that the parents would be talking so they'd be all up on what all of the kids were doing.

Claire let out an exasperated sigh as she laid in her bed, staring at her ceiling which was covered in band posters as well as a few dancers. She rolled over on her bed and hoisted herself out of bed with a groan, slipping on her trademark beanie hat and wandering out of her room and towards her sisters, with her feet lethargically dragging along the hardwood floor. Claire loved both of her siblings dearly but the past week or so she'd really been struggling with her conscience about ratting Aria out to their parents. She knew it meant that Aria and herself would be in some serious trouble and Aria would be mad at her for a long time but she didn't like her sister constantly hurting and degrading herself like this.

It had actually gotten to the point that last week Claire had gone to her older brother for advise on guys. She meant no offense to her sister but she didn't have the most reliable history with guys. They simply used her and she moved on, which just made her the joke of the town between the guys. Or at least from what she'd heard guys talking about Aria and with the way they spoke to Claire she figured they expected the same from her. Which Claire was determined not to give them because she wanted more for herself and she had more pride than her sister.

Claire paused at her sister's closed door and raised her hand to knock on the door and she hesitated for a moment. She lowered her hand for a moment and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, unsure if her sister was even home at the moment. Claire wouldn't have been surprised if her big sister was off with her friends or off with some guy she'd most likely never see again.She sighed and knocked on the door, hoping that her sister was in fact home. Claire had a couple friends coming over later for the block party but Claire did enjoy spending time with Aria when she wasn't being weird.

Whether there was a response or not from the other side of the door Claire swung the door open and wandered into her sister's room. She spotted her sister putting on her make up on and closed the door behind her and offered a weak smile before speaking, "Hey." There was a moment or two of pause before Claire wandered over to Aria's bed and plopped down onto it before asking, "So are you going to wander off with some guy tonight because I'm running out of excuses to tell mom and dad as to where you are." Claire crossed her legs, sure that Aria would become defensive or irritated about her barging into her room and then asking her such a question.

Location: Ariana's bedroom
In the company of: Ariana
Thoughts: I really hope she doesn't wander off for one night.
Out of Cookies: Hope this is okay

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

❝ I pirouette in the dark
I see the stars through me
Tired mechanical heart
Beats 'til the song disappears ❞

[Smile C I E L]

xxxx

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It was surprisingly easy to realize it’d been eight years since Piper’s death. There was a limit to how long reality could wait before being understood; even more so when Bryce accounted for the agonizing slowness of every second that passed without her. No amount of lies or naiveté could stop basic fact.

Still, in spite of that, there were some traces of Piper’s presence time couldn’t erase. If he closed his eyes, Bryce could still feel her warmth in the sun, or her lips in the whirling wind. It was imaginary, of course--the residue of an overactive imagination stuck in his brain—but when reality was that which people perceived, it was close enough that he could function. Most people had the benefit of living in a reality with false beliefs, like that they were the dominant species, and vampires were limited to cable shows and paranormal romance novels. An objective interpretation of reality would always be impossible, so he could take comfort in these small delusions.

It was a shame how little that helped him, now.

Bryce unbuttoned his right cuff. He tugged his right hand at the base of his sleeve, tugging it down as taut as he could make it without ripping the seam. His left fingers pinched the button, twisting it counter-clockwise and setting it back again. The gesture was small, discreet enough to anyone around him that it wouldn’t even register as a nervous fidget. That didn’t stop him from repeating it two more times before pushing the button through its hole, again.

It was at that point that Bryce finally willed himself to look at where he stood. Barely three seconds into observing—a fact which he knew since he’d mentally counted the seconds out—he was already aware of one crushing fact. If anyone saw him out here, he’d either look like a Jehovah Witness or a stalker.

At that moment in time, and for the three solid minutes preceding it, for that matter, Bryce Buchanan had been standing on the front steps of a house in Chicago. The address had been written on the back of a manila envelope he was holding, the corners of which had been wrinkled far more than natural wear would allow, the result of his nerves picking at the pages on the way. Under his right arm, which he’d been fidgeting with so recently, was a packet of information about a girl he hardly knew, given to him by a group of people which, eight years ago, he’d so charmingly referred to as ‘borderline sociopathic voyeuristic old codgers’. Which, to be honest with himself, was the nicest thing he’d said to them that day.

Bryce shifted back onto the heels of his feet. His mind was wandering in every which way except for the girl he was supposed to meet, here. She’d been approached once before, so the council had assured him he wouldn’t have to explain much. All he had to do was give his name, warn her they would begin training soon, and provide his contact information so they could start establishing a rapport. He rocked forward, then back again, and a third time, trying to convince himself of things he hadn’t the will to believe in.

Bryce lifted his hand to the door. He curled it into a fist, raised it towards the wood, and slowly set it down against the panel in near-silence. A tense breath escaped him. He hunched further towards the door, his head tilting down and his shoulders slouching with disappointment at his own discomfort. Screw vampires. He couldn’t even handle knocking on a door.

”Why did I do this?” Bryce murmured at the wood, the soft tone of hushed desperation meant more for himself than the door. He finished his third rock forward, set his right hand against the front panel of the Newells’ door, and turned to look at the window. The drapes were pulled, so all the sight told him was that they could afford decent, non-see-through drapes. He was willing to guess they wouldn’t be thrilled a stranger was standing on their doorstep, either.

A second sigh later, Bryce pulled his hand away, followed by the rest of him. He took a single stride back, picked up the file to stare down at and block his face with, and mumbled to himself some more. ”It’s temporary. Place holding. For her. This, girl in my unwarranted stalker packet… they shouldn’t have given me this. Or him. Or anyone. It’s… eugh.”

During his rambling, Bryce had managed to lift his head that tiny bit upright required for him to glimpse back at their door. His eyes lingered on the surface longer than he’d meant to, and his mind drifted accordingly, off to the mental image of what it’d been like for him. No matter how new the shock was to him, he could never quite relate to the person on the other side of this door. Still, for the sake of her sanity, just as it had been with Piper’s, it was the moral responsibility of someone to try. He put the manila envelope away in his bag, tugged down the base of his shirt, lifted his chin and braced to try.

With one last, heavy exhale, Bryce raised his hand to the wood. This time, he forced himself to knock. The back of his knuckles brushed the panel three times in quick succession before he pulled away.



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xxx

[ where ? || outside the newell house ] [ who ? || alone ] [ feeling ? || nervous and uncomfortable ] [ outfit ]

[Smile C I E L]

xxxx

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Dorian couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about this conversation was so odd, yet even he knew something was strange about it.

”Dorian, go to the party. Please,” his father spoke to him through the door, almost shouting, but not quite.

Dorian sat across his bed, reading his copy of Watchmen for the seventy-second time. His bare feet rest on his pillow and his head was propped up by a plush dalek. He didn’t budge. ”No.”

”It’ll be good practice for school tomorrow. Maybe you’ll make a friend.”

”Maybe I’ll be killed in a drive-by shooting by a man wearing a seal costume. You can put a maybe with anything. It’s filler. Practically meaningless. If it wasn’t in the dictionary it’d be literally, too,” he announced, not sounding snippy so much as if he was stating a fact.

A normal listener could’ve almost heard the suppressed sigh in his father’s voice. If the thud was any indication, they may also have heard him hit his head against the wall with said frustration. In actuality, it had been his hand on the wall beside Dorian’s door to open it up. Light flooded the room through the open doorway. Still, Dorian didn’t move.

His father took a few broad steps inside, approaching the bed. He stared down at his son with stern concern. ”Doctor Cooper told me you agreed to push yourself. It doesn’t have to be long. Just, make an appearance. Stand by a wall. Listen to other people,” he tried to suggest. Unfortunately, he may have gotten a better emotional response from a wall.

”They’ll give me a headache.”

”Then bring some asprin.”

”Acetominophen causes liver damage.”

”Then take the headache with pride. Either or. Just put on clean clothes. Get in the car. I’m driving you.”

Between the random medical facts and his complete obliviousness to his father’s attempts at being reasonable, there was one more thing which Dorian was failing to register. If he had any sense on standard practices of parenting, he may have realized the feat he’d just achieved by getting his own father to nearly beg him to go to a party.

Rather than continuing to argue with the wall, Dorian’s father opted to reach into Dorian’s closet for him. He pulled out the nearest presentable piece of clothing, a vest, set it on the corner of Dorian’s bed and reached over Dorian to pluck the book away.

When Dorian snapped his head over his shoulder and reached to grab the book, his father stepped back out of the room while holding the book in his opposite hand as far up as he could manage. ”Hey. Give that back.” Had Dorian been standing upright, he’d have a shot at reaching it. Sprawled on his bed, however, he’d been helpless to do much past a brief, limp flail before climbing up with the intention of getting it.

”Get in the car. Go to the party. You can read it there.”

”If I’m reading, why does a party matter?”

And that was how Dorian had ended up sitting in a stranger’s house, in a two-days worn and wrinkled t-shirt, reading that same copy of Watchmen while sitting on top of a chair. His feet planted into what was traditionally the bottom cushion, and his butt was planted on what was supposed to be the back of the chair, causing him to use it more like a particularly high stool than a chair. Music blared through the stranger’s house to a degree that honestly was distracting, yet he’d still managed to drown out in favor of his book and ignoring the world. He was barely four pages away from finishing, at which point he had no idea what he’d do. He hadn’t even been that aware of the stranger he’d been sitting directly beside, blatantly ignoring.

How his father had heard about a teenage house party to send him to, only he would know.



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xxx

[ where ? || house party ] [ who ? || near logan ] [ feeling ? || distracted ] [ outfit ]

[Tryfon]

Logan....yup, I'm a vampire

Logan was actually now focusing on his phone. It kept on lighting up telling him he had a text, but he didn't know what to do. He pointed at it and tapped it. He then moved the phone and waved it up and down. He then put it down and sighed, not great. So still couldn't work the phone. Fantastic. Because who doesn't like it when you have a dead weight. He sighed as he then noticed someone sitting next to him. Okay that must mean that he wanted to have a social interaction. So that was sucky. He looked at the other and wondered what to say. He wasn't the best at social interaction. He decided to at least greet himself "Privet. I am Logan Evangelista. What's your name?"

Good job Logan. Good job. Said hello, name, requested information. Though he could smell a little bit of demon on him. He hoped that the other wasn't after the Slayer. God he really really hoped that the other didn't. Because it meant he had to be all worky and save and all that s**t. He soon figured he could continue ask more questions. He sighed "So what brings you in here? I mean, you don't seem like your enjoying it and alcohol no matter how free can't make up for the shitty music and disgusting view of people...so what brings you here?"

Now to figure out maybe through conversation what type of demon he was. Well he didn't smell all on demon but he didn't smell all on human. Just had to figure out where he was and if he was a threat. The kid didn't look like one. So he just asked "okay don't take this personally but your obviously are some type of demon, so what are you?"

Yup...that was subtle.

Or well maybe not so much. He then gave a nod and put his hand through his hair as he hoped he hadn't insulted the other. Maybe he should be honest. You know like I'm Logan and I am a demon sort of deal. He looked at the other as he said "If it helps I'll tell you what i am. A vampire."

Where: House Party!
With Who? Dorian

Smile C I E L